


Of Fevers, Love, and Linoleum Floors

by great_turkey_calamity



Category: Red White & Royal Blue - Casey McQuiston
Genre: Amy is henrys nurse, Chronic Illness, Fluff, Henry has lupus, Hospital Date, M/M, Not Beta Read, alex comes to visit him in the hospital, mild medical angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-21
Updated: 2020-12-21
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:53:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28226436
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/great_turkey_calamity/pseuds/great_turkey_calamity
Summary: With only four days until Christmas, Henry is stuck in the hospital after an especially bad lupus flare-up.Alex comes to visit him after completing his last exam of the term.
Relationships: Alex Claremont-Diaz/Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor
Comments: 13
Kudos: 61
Collections: The Firstprince Secret Snowflake Exchange





	Of Fevers, Love, and Linoleum Floors

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thefridgelovesfood](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thefridgelovesfood/gifts).



> Maja my darling, this one’s for you! I was so excited when I got you as my snowflake, because you’re just this ray of sunshine that lights up the server. This was originally thirteen different ideas, but I went back to the basics, and I produced something that I really think you’ll enjoy. Much love, and I hope you like it! 🥰 ☺️ 🥰

Alex has been to this hospital at least a thousand times since he and Henry first started seeing each other. It always smells the same— like black coffee and clinical antiseptic and that smell they tell you is supposed to be ‘unscented’, but really makes your stomach churn just a little bit.

He remembers meeting Henry over a year ago in some elective class that had combined poetry and politics; Alex very quickly realized that Henry was the smartest person in that room filled with pretentious, egotistical twenty-somethings— that he was the smartest person in any room, really. After two weeks of gazing at him across the lecture hall and pining when he should have been taking notes, he’d finally asked Henry to get a cup of coffee with him. He’d been rejected; Henry insisted that the two of them go get tea together instead. So they did exactly that, and a week later, Alex took him on a date to the Met.

That date was a sort of turning point for the two of them, and for their relationship as a whole. One would assume that it was because their spark had taken wonderfully to all the coaxing and kindling, and whilst they would be correct, there was another impactful event that happened that day.

Alex had learned that Henry is severely affected by lupus.

As they’d been making their way through the museum, he’d been formulating a list in his head of every oddity, every abnormal symptom. It had gone something along these lines:

1\. Henry was unbearably warm, possibly running a fever.

2\. He had labored, obviously pained breathing.

3.Henry had taken breaks sat down on every bench available in the museum in order to regain his energy, and Alex tried his best to keep the two of them entertained until he had the strength to keep going (he didn’t mind this, of course, but the frequency of his breaks had been a cause for alarm) .

4\. Henry had been apologizing profusely and blaming it all on his joint pain.

5\. Henry was squinting every time they passed under a fluorescent light, or at any change in lighting, no matter how subtle.

6\. There was a butterfly-shaped red rash across Henry’s cheeks and nose bridge, that Alex had mistaken for a particularly bad flush. 

“You could have rescheduled, you know,” He’d told Henry once they’d gotten back to his car, keeping his tone even and gentle. “I can tell that you don’t feel well; I would have understood.”

Henry played with the zipper on his hoodie for a moment, before zipping it the rest of the way up. “I was actually feeling fairly well earlier. I’ve been ill for quite a while— it comes and it goes.”

Alex noticed at that exact moment that Henry’s fingers were turning blue. There was zero room for exaggeration; his fingertips had turned a vivid, undeniable blue, fading down into a reddish-purple hue.

“Explain that, then,” Alex had ordered, faint panic in his voice. “We need to get you to the hospital, now, unless you have a real good reason as to why we shouldn’t”

What he hadn’t been expecting was to find out that Henry was— and still is— suffering from a very painful and debilitating autoimmune disease. That his best friend had also been acting as his caretaker. That he’dbeen hospitalized for failing organs and anemia and just about a million other things relating to his condition in the past. He’d never spoken about it before; Alex hadn’t the slightest idea that he’d been suffering in silence the whole time. 

“I, well—“ Henry had sighed, lips pursed together as he kneaded away at his still-blue fingers. “I understand completely if you’re not willing to take things any further than this.” He continued, quickly diverting his attention to the window. He was shaking; Alex had wondered in that moment if he were feeling cold. Looking back on that day, and knowing what he knows about Henry now, he could have guessed quite easily that he was about to cry. “I wouldn’t want you to feel held back, or anything like that. I understand that dating someone with an expiration date isn’t everyone’s top priority.” 

“Hey,” Alex has told him, tender and gentle. “Don’t talk about yourself like that. This doesn’t define you, and it certainly doesn’t define what I think of you,” he’d been certain to assure him, first and foremost. “Look at me, please?”

Guessing by the tears in Henry’s eyes, he’d figured that he didn’t hear this as often as he should; other guys his age probably didn’t share his perspective, or his level of maturity and basic human decency. He remembers cradling his face with one hand, swiping away stray tears as they came trucking down from the corners of his eyes.

“Now, I just had an amazing date,” He’d told him. “One of the best I’ve ever had.”

“So did I.” Henry had replied, blinking tears away, shuddering with every breath. 

“Would you like to go on more in the future?” He’d asked.

“Yes, very much so.”

“Good, then we’ve got nothin’ to worry about.” Alex had concluded, patting his face. “I can’t imagine how hard it is to talk about this stuff, but I’m here for you, okay? I’ll listen so long as you’ll talk.”

Henry had nodded, blinking more tears away. “Right,” He’d croaked, sniffling. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Good,” Alex replied, patting him on the face. “Now, I do believe that it’s an official date requirement that I take you to get something to eat.” He’d joked. “What do you think?”

Henry had giggled, wiping at his final bout of tears. “Yeah, sure. Let’s go eat.”

From that exact moment onward, Alex had made learning about Henry’s condition one of his top priorities. He’d read countless online articles and several novels, and started accompanying Henry to as many medical appointments as possible. He’d even managed to set up a sort of hybrid schedule for the rest of his first year of law school; he teaches himself the materials at home to be available for Henry, and only goes in for exams and mock trials. He knows Henry’s doctors and his nurses on first name bases— nicknames for a few of them, even. 

The last two weeks—well— they’ve been rough for Henry, agonizingly and exceedingly so. Hair loss, sharp chest pains, crippling anxiety, migraines, and a fever of 103 degrees Fahrenheit to boot. His Raynaud’s syndrome has been acting up again, fingers going from blue, to white, to red, and right back to blue. It’d been finals week at NYU, so Alex hasn’t been able to visit nearly as much as he would like to. He’s been making up for it with frequent phone calls and meal dates over FaceTime. 

Shaan and Zahra, known to most in the hospital as Doctors Bankston and Srivastava, have been keeping Alex updated on Henry’s condition over the past week. He’s— well— he’s developed hypoxia, to put it blatantly. There’s not enough oxygen in Henry’s tissues for him to sustain bodily function on his own. His lungs aren’t collapsing, or bursting, or failing; there just isn’t enough air reaching his lungs, or his brain. Shaan finally had him put on a nasal cannula last night, a startlingly permanent change in their lives. Alex remembers Henry calling him as soon as Shaan left his croon, and crying his eyes out, talking about it felt like he’d finally been told to resign his fate to this illness. Like he’d been told to just lay down, take his meds, and give up. 

Alex wasn’t about to have any of that, not one bit. 

So here he is, the night after, twenty-four hours after the fact, standing outside his hospital room door. He’s got an overnight bag slung over his shoulder, filled with nothing but comfort items for Henry. He really hasn’t been taking this well, and he needs a bit of a pick-me-up after last night. After completing his last exam, and several phone calls on the way over, Alex is finally here to help him take his mind off of things. He knocks twice, waiting until he hears verbal permission to open the door and welcome himself inside the room. 

The first thing he does, before he steps another foot into the room, is wash his hands. It’s immediate; he shuts the door behind himself, and heads to the sink to wash up. Henry is especially susceptible to infections; they’d learned that the hard way back in October when Alex had caught a cold, and given it to Henry— despite trying his best to stay away— and Henry had landed in the hospital for the better part of a week. They cannot risk letting him getting sick again. So, anytime he’s about to touch or be near Henry, he makes sure his hands are freshly, or very recently, washed. Especially in the hospital; his worst fear is bringing something with him into such a sterile environment. He switches the taps on, coats his hands in antibacterial soap, scrubbing for twenty seconds before rinsing it off, throwing his paper towel in the trash bin after drying his hands. 

Henry isn’t paying him any mind at all, typing away on his laptop, currently lost in his own universe. How he manages to get any work done whilst being so sick is completely beyond Alex, but he’s always been like that. A hustler— an aggressive go-getter. He’s written through it all, and Alex knows that it’s the one constant in his life, the one thing about Henry that will never, ever change; his desire to change the world through his writing.

Alex takes a good moment to just look at him. The butterfly rash on his face is a bright red color, but not quite blistering yet. His hair looks dry and brittle; he figures he’s lost quite a bit of it. He’s got a bit of color beneath his waxy skin, IV from a fluid drip imbedded in his arm. He’s got the cannula in his nose, secure and snug, the adjuster fastened just below his chin. He’s wearing sweats, and the ‘matzo-ballin‘ socks he’d worn to Nora’s cousin’s bar mitzvah back in May; he’s clearly striving to be as comfortable as physically possible.

The light in the room is minimal, and there’s an episode of The Golden Girls playing on the TV mounted in the upper left hand corner of the room. The blanket and sheets have been kicked to the end of the bed— most likely in a feverish fit of pique. All of the pillows have been shoved behind his back, supporting him and keeping him upright, laptop sat on the bed tray so it doesn’t burn his lap when it starts to overheat. The atmosphere in the room, as suffocating and tense as it can be at times, is serene tonight. Oddly domestic and surreal, like a trip to the gas station at three in the morning for 5-hour Energy shots and lukewarm cheese pizza in those single-slice boxes. Strange, but not at all unwelcome.

“Startin’ to look a little bit like the girl from The Fault In Our Stars,” He jokes, making his way over. 

Henry snorts, not looking up from his laptop. “Shut up—“ He pauses, seemingly realizing who he’s speaking to, immediately diverting his attention to Alex and shutting his laptop. “You really do need to choose a more standard way of greeting me, you know. Cash made the same joke twice before you got here.”

Alex laughs. “Cash is the only one understands my comedic genius.”

“There’s something going on up there, but it certainly isn’t genius.”

Alex presses his hand to the center of his chest, feigning pain. “Oh, how you wound me!”

Henry rolls his eyes, and sits up properly to push the rolling tray down the bed. It takes far more effort than Alex is fond of. “Lay down with me.” He demands, rearranging his pillows and slumping back against them.

Alex smiles. “What if Shaan comes in?” He proposes. “Or Zahra? They’ll both skin me alive.”

“I’ll just start crying, it makes them uncomfortable. They’ve got such awkward and unfortunate bedside manner, especially for licensed medical professionals.”

“God, you’re evil,” Alex exaggerates, letting out a huff of laughter as he lays down next to Henry in bed. There’s a lot of shifting around to get comfortable, but they get there, eventually. A compact, intertwined mess; Henry’s got a leg wrapped around his waist. The overnight bag has been sat on a nearby chair. “I’ve missed you.” Alex sighs, caressing his face. He’s warm, like he’s just come out of a fever, or is just about to go into one. 

Henry hums, his smile lighting up the rest of his face. God, Alex doesn’t understand how he looks so handsome all the time. Between his bright eyes and his brilliant smile, there’s never a day that he doesn’t look stunning. “I’ve missed you too.”

Alex pecks his lips, and they melt into it, slow and languid. It’s been two long, hard weeks without Henry. Between treatments and finals, neither one of them have had very much time for each other. Sure, phone calls and FaceTime meals helped them scrape by, but those were few and far between. This is the first time they’ve held each other in fourteen days, and it feels more like it’s been decades.

When they pull apart, there’s no telling how long they just lay there, enjoying the quiet and one another’s presence. Henry’s breathing is shorter than what it used to be, shallow and soft, exhaling warm little puffs of air against Alexander’s shoulder. He presses a hand to his back; he’s shaking, too. Today must’ve been a little on the rougher side, bless him. 

“How are your organs doing?” Alex asks, and he can feel Henry’s laughter. It’s a weirdly-phrased question, but an important one nonetheless. 

“Shaan told me that everything looks alright. Just a bad flare up, apparently.”

Alex makes an unsure face. “No renal or cardiopulmonary failure? I dunno, sounds kinda fake to me.”

Henry sighs, smiling. “I wouldn’t throw pulmonary out quite yet. I’m supposed to be coming home with one of these,” He explains, reaching down behind him and slapping the portable oxygen concentrator. “So who knows at this point? I certainly don’t.”

“I think,” Alex starts, framing his face with his hands. “That it makes you look like an absolute badass.”

“I think that you’re going completely blind.” Henry quips one response, and Alex kisses the space between his eyebrows. 

“Nah, you lost a lung in combat,” He starts, spinning an elaborate scenario in his mind. “Some Richards-supporting dumbass was up to no good, so you just started beatin’ his ass. Goin’ to town on this dude. You won, of course.”

Henry giggles. “If I lost a lung, what happened to the other guy, hmm?”

“Trust me, sweetheart, you don’t even wanna know,” Alex tells him, giving him a gentle squeeze. A thought pops into the forefront of his mind that he can’t push away or ignore. “Speaking of Richards, are we gonna be able to pay for the oxygen tank with your insurance, or are we doin’ this out of pocket?”

“Insurance will cover it, I already called ahead and asked.” Henry confirms. “We wouldn’t be able to cover it out of pocket.”

“I’d have used the trust that Mom and Dad set up for me.”

“That’s for school and school only,” Henry reminds him sternly. “You’re not allowed to spend that on me.”

“Technically, I’m allowed to spend it on whatever I want,” Alex reminds him. He knows that Henry doesn’t enjoy the concept of money being spent on him, but when it comes right down to it, Alexander knows that he’ll do just about anything to make sure that Henry’s getting the proper care he needs. 

“Yes, but you shouldn’t be spending it on my medical bills,” Henry sighs, a subtly guilty look shining in his eyes. “You shouldn’t even have to worry about that.”

“What we need to worry about is getting Richards out of the White House, and finding a suitable candidate to replace him with.” Alex replies, shifting the topic of conversation. This isn’t Henry’s fault— there’s much more at hand.“Still can’t believe that fuckin’ ghoul won the last election.”

“Neither can I,” Henry sighs. “It takes a special sort of misery to make four years feel like eight.”

“I wonder who they’re gonna start settin’ up.”

“Probably your mum.” 

Alex laughs. “Why would they pick Mom, babe?”

Henry shrugs, his grin slight. “She was arguing cases in front of the Supreme Court by thirty. She calls people out without any shame. She's got grit. Fortitude. People like that.”

Alex is smiling still. “Yeah? Who’d her running mate be?”

“Mike Holleran, then I’d actually be able to afford my bloody health insurance.” Henry snorts.

“You’ve got a point,” He chuckles. “You think she’d win?”

“I do— I’d definitely vote for her.”

“You just applied for citizenship, baby.”

“I’ll take the test and oath, then go straight to the polling station.” Henry says, being idealistic. “Really though, she should at least consider it.”

“I’ll talk to her about it.”

“Wonderful,” Henry sighs, glancing around the room. “What’s in the bag?”

Alex realizes that it’s remained stationary on the chair up until this point. “Oh, I didn’t know how long you were gonna be here for, so I just grabbed some stuff from home before I came here.” He detached himself from Henry, sitting up and grabbing the bag. He unzips it, and starts rifling through it. Henry sits up, indicating his interest. “Let’s see— I brought all your vitamins, wasn’t sure which ones you needed.” He starts, setting out four pill bottles on the bed.

“Yay, more pills.” Henry laughs, sarcastic and sounding just a touch exhausted.

“I don’t even wanna imagine how many they have you taking.” 

“No increase. They just switched me from Celebrex to Mobic, though.”

“For your inflammation?” Alex asks, helping Henry get the lid off his B12 supplement bottle.

“Yeah,” Henry replies, knocking back a handful of vitamins. “I’ve been hurting again, as you are well aware of, and they think that Mobic might work a little bit better.”

Alex laughs, trying to hide his frustration. “You’ve only been asking them to do that for, what, two months now?”

“Three,” Henry corrects gently, taking a sip of water.

Alex scoffs. “Three months, and they’re only listening to you now. I hate the American healthcare system.”

“So do I, but it’s nothing to throw a fit over right at this moment,” Henry soothes, kissing his temple. “What else have you got in there?”

“Your earbuds,” Alex says, handing him the tangled mess of cords. “I can’t believe we left them at home.”

“Well, it was sort of urgent that we got here as soon as possible, due to my inability to breathe at the time. Sacrifices had to be made, darling.” Henry replies, untangling his earbuds. “I can finally give Amy her spare pair back.”

“She workin’ tonight?”

“Mhm.”

“What about Cash?”

“He took off vacation time to go visit his sister and nephew in Oregon,” Henry informs him. “So no.”

“Damn, can’t believe I missed him.” Alex chuckles, continuing to sort through the bag. “Let’s see— your good pair of pajamas and The Complete Novels of Jane Austen.” He announces, setting the book and clothes on the bed.

Henry laughs. “How long were you anticipating I’d be stuck in here?”

“Honestly? ‘Til New Year’s.” Alex admits. Henry snickers. 

“If I’m still in stable condition on Monday, they’ll let me go.” Henry informs him. “On the twenty-third, I believe.”

“Well, now I feel a little dumb.” Alex tells him, smile tinged with slight embarrassment. 

“Don’t,” Henry coos. “The fact that you came all the way up here to see me just shows how much you care.”

“Psh,” Alex replies, leaning in to kiss him. “Of course I care. Don’t you know I’m the best advocate for people with Lupus there’s ever been?” He teases.

“You sure about that?” Henry asks, chuckling when Alex gives him a fiendish look. 

“Last thing in the bag is something I ordered on Amazon for you a while ago,” Alex continues, diverting his attention to the bag. “Wanna guess what it is?”

“I haven’t the slightest idea, you add things to your cart three times a week.” Henry says, making quite the valid point. 

“True, true,” Alex concedes. He pulls the weighted blanket out of the bag, and drapes it over Henry. Henry looks at him like he’s the reason the sun comes up in the morning. 

“I love you.” Henry tells him, sudden and simple. It’s sincere, and shows intense, unyielding conviction.

Alex laughs. “I love you too. I, uhm, I ordered it as soon as we got you settled in here. I knew you were due for a new one, and figured then was as good a time as ever. Shipping was a bitch, though.” 

“Christ lovie, I—“ Henry sighs, pulling the blanket tight around himself, laying his head on Alexander’s shoulder. “I’m so glad you’re here. I really don’t know what I would do without you sometimes.”

Alex isn’t dumb; he knows this goes so much deeper than a new blanket. He understands that there are days— sometimes weeks— where Henry is completely unable to physically pull himself out of bed, where he is miserable, and every breath brings him inconceivable pain, and he spends more time crying and sleeping than doing anything else. Where not even snuggles from David, who’s currently being dog-sat by Pez, are able to help. Henry tries his hardest to suffer in silence, to push help away, but Alex doesn’t let him. He makes sure he has an outlet to express every non-positive feeling and emotion within himself, and makes sure he always has what he needs. When he says he ‘doesn’t know what he would do’ without Alex, he means it, and it makes Alex’s heart break a little more every time he hears him say it.

Alexander opts to shush him instead of saying anything, pecking his temple and carding through his hair. Henry, his poor baby. He’s had it so hard. Alex wonders why he should have to go through so much sickness and pain, illness plaguing his days and nights. It’s all just too much.

Amy makes her way in then, immediately washing her hands and pulling on disposable gloves.

“Hey, Amy.” Alex greets, nonchalant.

“Hey,” She replies, making her way over to Henry to remove the IV from his arm. “What do you guys want for dinner?”

“Some real bloody food,” Henry snorts. “Amy, I love you, but I will go mad if I have to eat anymore of this hospital cafeteria rubbish.”

She tries her best to hold back her laughter, but ultimately fails. “I don’t know what to tell you, dude. I can’t can’t help that the food here is so fucking bad. I’m not the one that cooks it— I just bring it to you.”

“Would you tell Shaan if we got Uber Eats?” Alex asks. “I don’t wanna eat this shit either.”

“I most certainly would,” Amy replies with a smile, and they both groan.

“Amy,” Henry whines. “I’m in here for my lungs, not my stomach. Please, let us get Uber Eats.”

“If you wanna eat, you can have cafeteria food.” She repeats herself, and Henry makes another pitiful sound, his head thudding against the pillows.

Alex has a moment of pure genius. “We’ll order you something, too.”

Amy hesitates. “No.”

“Dude, we will let you pick.” Alex tells her, dead serious. “We just want food that tastes like real food. We don’t care what it actually is.”

She sighs, and finishes up disposing of everything in the proper sharps and biohazard containers. “I want Jollibee.” She tells them, and Alex tries not to laugh at Henry’s whispered, victorious ‘yes’. 

“Alright,” Alex replies, pulling up the Uber Eats app on his phone. “Jollibee it is.”

“I’ve never had fast food spaghetti before, but I’d say it’s pretty good,” Henry acknowledges, shoving another forkful into his mouth. He’s got the bed tray pulled up close again, and has one of those shitty Christmas-themed princess movies on Netflix playing on his laptop. “Good call, Amy.”

Amy grunts in response, too busy digging into her Palabok Fiesta to talk; as soon as the food had arrived, she went on her break. She doesn’t play around when it comes to a hot meal, especially not after going ten hours without any respite.

Alex swallows a mouthful of Adobo rice. “We’re gonna go on a walk after this, okay?” Alex tells her, and Amy looks up at the two of them, one brow elegantly arched.

“What is this, date night?” She asks.

“I mean, kind of,” Henry replies, smiling, then grimacing as Vanessa Hudgens delivers an especially horrible line. “As good as it can get in a hospital.”

Amy hums, taking a sip of her drink. “Say no more; you both have my number, just text me when you’re ready for your next round of fluids and your night meds.” She says, her words directed at Henry.

“Will do,” Alex replies, mouthing a soft ‘thank you’ to Henry’s favorite nurse. She returns it with a roll of the eyes, shoving another forkful of food into her mouth. That’s Amy— tough love, through and through.

Most people wouldn’t consider a walk through a hospital courtyard at eight o’ clock at night at the end of December to be romantic in the slightest.

Alex does, though.

Despite the frigid air that seeps through his jacket and settles in his bones, and the boring corporate shrubbery, and the fact that Zahra or Shaan would behead them both if they saw them out here, he is having one of the best nights of his life.

He owes it all to Henry, of course.

Henry James Fox. His gorgous, entirely amazing boyfriend. A clumsy, gangly thing, constantly tripping over his own two feet and adjusting the tightness of his cannula. A smile that could thaw a heart made of glass and ice, if such a request was made. Razor-sharp wit, and intelligent as all get-out. The love of his life.

He remembers Henry telling him he doesn’t know what he’d do without him; he feels the same way. Alex has no idea what he’d do without Henry by his side.

“My family’s going to be flying in to visit on Christmas Eve,” Henry reminds him, linking their little fingers. “That’s going to be a mess if I’ve ever seen one.”

“They’re coming the day after you get out of the hospital,” Alex notes, not liking the sound of that whatsoever. “Could their timing be any more tragic?”

“Knowing Philip, one word out of him will haveme wanting to come right back,” Henry jokes. “I’m not above faking symptoms to keep him away from me.”

“If Philip or Mary say anything,” Alex starts. “Anything at all— I’ll fight ‘em both at the same time.”

“You might want to watch out around Gran,” Henry warns in a faux-serious tone of voice. “She's a lot tougher than she looks.”

“Yeah?” Alex confirms, smiling.

“Yeah, she could take you on quite easily.”

“Yeah, but we both know who’d win.”

“Of course.”

Alex sighs, placing a hand on his waistline. “Really, though. It’ll be good to see your mom and Bea again.”

“They’ve missed you quite a bit,” Henry notes, and God, his smile makes Alex feel like Icarus launching himself headfirst into the fucking sun. Like his infinity is brief and he’s drowning in the pleasant heat of it. Like Henry is a young and merciful god, and he is the putty in his hands. The passion with which he loves this man is absolutely unbearable. “They want us to come back to London this summer.”

“I’d love to,” Alex replies, perhaps a beat too quick. “I miss London, honestly. A beautiful place to spend the summer.”

“I disagree; I came here to get away from the dull grayness of England.” Henry counters, and Alex inhales.

“Allow me to correct myself,” He starts, grinning. “I think any place is beautiful so long as you’re there. You’re just— you’re one of the best things that’s ever happened to me, and after being away from you for the past two weeks, I don’t think I ever wanna go through that again.”

Henry snorts, and when Alex looks to him, his entire face has turned a soft pink shade. “We’ve been apart for longer than that before; What was that, some sort of marriage proposal?” He teases affectionately.

“It’s less of a proposal, and more of a promise that that there’s gonna be one sometime in the future.”

“Love, you’re killing me here.”

“That’s the plan, sweetheart.” Alex tells him with a wink, rolling to a stop and turning to face Henry. He presses his hands to his face. Warm. Not feverish. Just pleasantly warm. “I love you, you know.”

Henry smiles. “I know. I love you, too.”

“I know,” Alex replies, laughing. He stands on his toes, pressing a fleeting, quick kiss to his mouth. “Let’s go back inside— it’s freezing out here.”

“Only because you never bothered to invest in actual winter clothes.” Henry chuckles. 

“Why would I buy new clothes when I could just steal yours?”

“Because I would like to wear my own clothes, thank you,” Henry replies, nudging him in the ribs. “That was cute, though, what you pulled just then. Real cute.”

“You’re cute.”

Alex is elbowed in the ribs once more as they make their way inside, narrowly avoiding fresh snow raining down on them as they head back to Henry’s room for the night.

It may not be the ideal date night, but everything feels perfect when they’re together.


End file.
